


Echui an Cuil Edwen: Awakening to a Second Life

by GaladrielGlenanne



Category: Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6539455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaladrielGlenanne/pseuds/GaladrielGlenanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Tenth Walker  story of a twenty year old, damaged girl who suddenly finds herself in Middle Earth and therein finds a second chance at life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

> Long ago, I read somewhere that true fans of Tolkien's writings actually desire to live in Middle Earth. That is certainly true for me (though it's a toss up between Rivendell, Lothlorien and Minas Tirith), and it is also where I got the idea to write this fanfic. I've read a few LOTR Fanfics but the main character is usually only vaguely aware of LOTR, having read the book once, long ago. My character will be different; she is going to have extensive knowledge of all of the happenings in Middle Earth (as any true fangirl does) and therefore have to deal with the repercussions of said knowledge.

 

Bone-weary and broken, Zan shuffled forward with her eyes downcast. Some small voice in her head told her it was stupid to be so oblivious to her surroundings but she no longer had the fortitude to even make herself care. She was, after all, in the middle of nowhere which was a substantial part of her problem. Her breath rattled achingly in her chest and with every step the pounding in her head reverberated with the force of an earthquake that measured at least 8.5 on the richter scale. She had of course slipped and fallen countless times, whether from exhaustion, the uneven terrain, or her tear streaked grief, she did not know, but more than likely it was a combination of the three. Whatever the cause, each time she fell, she found it was becoming harder to pick herself up again and make herself keep going. The last hour had been, by far and away, the worst of her short life. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional storm that was raging inside of her. She knew now that nothing in her life would ever be the same again. 

 

On some level she knew she should be concerned by the sharpness of the pain in her chest. It was getting worse, and much harder to breathe as she climbed the rise of a steep hill, if indeed it was a hill. She had thought so when standing at the bottom but now wavered between calling it a large hill or a small mountain. Pondering that question had kept her from focusing too much on the relentlessness and intensity of her headache which made her vaguely wonder if she had a concussion, but she pushed the thoughts of her own injuries aside, rejecting the self pity that came with them. This was her comeuppance and by her own reckoning she knew she deserved this and worse, so much worse!  
The wreck was just a blur. It had all happened so fast. They had driven up a nearby steep embankment just fine, but somehow coming back down the tires had gotten crossways to the tracks and before she knew what happened the jeep had flipped, rolling three times before it slammed to a stop against what used to be a one of the few remaining majestic, venerable American Elms in the North Woods. The crash had knocked her brutally against the steering wheel and windshield, causing her to lose consciousness. When she had awoken much later it was into a nightmare from which she knew she’d never escape. Her best friend was gone...and there was no doubt she was to blame. She never should taken her friend up on the offer to come to visit her at her new home in Maine, and she certainly shouldn’t have insisted Ana come to the mountains with her to go four-wheeling in her new jeep; now her best friend was dead because of her own stupidity. 

 

Just ahead she could see the top of the precipice from which she hoped to find cell service. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had made the decision to leave the body of her best friend in the mangled remains of the jeep and start this trek up the steep embankment. She knew if she turned around and looked down the hillside she would see the barely recognizable remains of her new Jeep. She had made that mistake once when she had first started this horrific climb and knew she would never be able to erase that vision from her mind. It wasn’t the loss of the car; after all the jeep was just a thing; it was knowing that inside the mutilated, overturned debris hung the body of the only person who had lovingly stuck by her through good times and bad for the past 7 years.The girls had met way back in sixth grade, but Zan knew she would never forget that first conversation she had with Ana Genevieve Medeiros almost a decade ago.  


"Hey chica blanca. Te ves deprimido, como usted me necesita para un amigo. Mi nombre es Ana. Estamos de entrar en todo tipo de problemas juntos".  


“I don’t speak spanish.” Zan said eyeing the girl with brazen animosity, hoping the dark headed girl would take the hint and just leave her be, but the smile had never left the stranger’s face.  


“Then what are you doing in Del Rio, Texas?”  


“Just moved here.”  


“Sucks for you!” She laughed. “Really, it’s not so bad here if you like to go fishing, don’t mind haggling every time you try to shop, or enjoy being surrounded by nothing but Mexican food.”  


Zan was sure her expression must have said a resounding no because Ana said, “Me either! But there is this cool place about three hours from here that we sneak off to when we wanna go swimming.”  


“Why would I ever want to ride for three hours in a car just to go swimming when there is a friggin' river right outside the door of every building in this forsaken town?”  


"Because Hamilton Pool in Dripping Springs, Texas is like no other swimming hole on earth. A group of us are blowing off afternoon classes and headed there. You wanna come, chica?”  


A slow smile spread across Zan's face and for the first time she actually made eye contact.The three hours in a car with strangers was totally worth it now that she had a reason to skip school and anger her Aunt and Uncle! Holding out her hand she said, “I’m Alexzandra Evers."

"Well, that's a mouthful. How about I call you Zan?"

Later on the long ride to Hamilton Pool, Zan had asked Ana exactly what she had said to her when they first met and was surprised at the girl’s answer. From that day until this one the two girls had been virtually inseparable. Zan would never forget that enigmatic smile nor the fact that her own abrasiveness had not run off the vivacious girl destined to be her best friend, and no statement had ever been more true than the first words Ana had spoken to her. “Hey white girl. You look depressed, like you need me for a friend. My name is Ana. We are gonna to get into all kinds of trouble together.”  
Ana had been the only constant in a painful life in which even Zan’s so called relatives had abandoned her after the death of both her parents. Through stints with various family members, two group homes and one failed attempt at a foster family Zan had always been able to rely on Ana’s good natured joking and penchant for attracting trouble to keep the ever-present depression at bay. They had always managed to find a way to keep in touch; for awhile the two had only been able to stay in touch via the internet and cell phones. That had been hard, but once they'd gotten their licenses it had become immensely easier. Even now during the college years, they kept in touch almost daily, but today had changed everything! 

With less than twenty feet to go to get to the top, the pain in her chest caused Zan to stumble yet again. As she lay prone on the ground fighting back tears, she pulled the cell phone out of her pocket and checked the bars once again only to see that she still had no service. Her tears turned to outright sobs, and for several moments she allowed herself to give into the despair that had haunted her from the moment she’d regained consciousness. She wasn't at the top yet so she wouldn’t allow herself to give up. She would not let herself stop; not yet, not until she reached the top. Cursing softly through the pain, she stuffed the phone into the back pocket of her filthy jeans and pushed herself painfully back to her feet one last time and struggled the remaining distance to the top.  


When she finally arrived, on some small level, she was surprised to see there was a sharp drop off at her feet. She had assumed this would be the rounded point of one of the lesser peaks of the White Mountains, not the dangerous escarpment that lay before her but ultimately she decided it didn’t make a difference for her needs, which was one measly bar of cell service. But before she could even pull the phone back out of her pocket for another look, she was suddenly overcome with dizziness and was shocked to realize her vision was closing in, blackening around the edges. With fear she concluded she was likely passing out and, not wanting to fall, tried to force herself to her knees and failed. The last thing she could remember was the sensation of falling.

 

*******

Even before Zan awoke from the deep, mind-numbing sleep she was in, her brain was able to observe and categorize several curious factoids of information. First, the cold that had whipped mercilessly at her face during the long hours of the northern end of her drive up the eastern seaboard and during her entire two week stay in Maine was shockingly absent. Yet, she was almost entirely certain she was outside or at the very least lay in a room with many open windows because of the fresh, pungent smell of the air all around her, and wasn’t that the sound of a waterfall? Second, she felt the softness of a blanket tucked beneath her chin which meant she wasn't alone in the woods anymore. Third, the pain she expected to feel in her chest and head was substantially less than she had remembered before she had unwittingly lost her balance and taken the header off of the cliff. Despite these curious facts Zan still found herself reluctant to leave the warm comfort of sleep behind. On some level she knew that the moment she woke up she would be faced with the pain of some untenable reality. She could remember being in the worst pain she’d ever felt and she could also recall the long agonizing hike up something, maybe a mountain? But that was all. She knew there was more, something important she wasn't remembering, and she had a sense of dread whenever she tried to think too hard on what had happened. There was something she knew she should remember, but she also knew she didn't want to, not at all. Yet, it was her own curiosity that finally pulled her back into the waking world.  


She had repeatedly heard the soft tread of footsteps and whispered, melodic voices speaking a foreign tongue. Had she fallen into ‘The True North’ and that was French Canadian she heard? Though she had never heard it spoken, she somehow doubted it. When she could stand it no longer she forced open her eyes only to quickly shut them again against the brightness. Before she could make sense of anything she had so briefly seen, a soft voice she could not understand spoke to her arresting all of her attention.

“Av-’osto. Echuio. Le nathlam hí.”*

Opening her eyes a second time, Zan's gaze fell on a sight she had never before seen, an ornately carved ceiling of unimaginable elegance. This time, because she was expecting it, the brightness wasn’t nearly as harsh, and pulling her eyes downward to the rest of the room she scanned her surroundings but did not immediately see the speaker. Wondering if she had imagined the voice she let her eyes wander curiously around the room, and quickly decided it was the most unusual living chamber she had ever seen. The ceiling, high above her, was made of beautiful wooden beams of varying hue, and though it was flat at its pinnacle it curved gracefully downward until it became a series of arched and columned openings where walls should have stood. The columns, themselves, were remarkable in that instead of being boring, roundish or squarish in design they were instead carved, wooden statues of lithe, graceful beings in a variety of poses. Beyond them on both sides of the room stood terraces. The one to her right stood open giving a clear view of a distant mountain peak and just a glimmer of pale blue sky beyond it. The balcony on her left was covered with draping curtains to block the afternoon sun. Though she could not see it she was certain now that just out of sight there was, at least one, perhaps several waterfalls.

“Pedil edhellen?”* The disembodied voice asked again and this time the girl surmised that it was coming from her left. Shifting slightly in bed Zan was able to catch a glimpse of a young woman, elegantly dressed in a nearby alcove. Her near waist-length curly hair fell strikingly in dark locks around a pale face of unsurpassing beauty. She was surrounded by what Zan could only guess was a golden aura. Though before this moment Zan had never put much stock into the veracity of anyone claiming to have seen such a thing. She had always considered auras to be about as real as ghosts or UFOs, which is to say not real at all. Rubbing her eyes in an effort to clear her vision, she was surprised when the golden light didn't fade away.

“What is that language you speak?” Zan croaked out. “ And where am I?” Her voice caught on the last word and she ended in an embarrassing fit of coughing. The woman gracefully arose from the chair and disappeared from view. Though Zan could still hear her nearby and guessed by the chink of glass on glass that the graceful, young woman was pouring a drink for her.

“Sindaran” She answered, “and you speak Westron, though your accent is not known to me.” The melodic voice practically sang the words. Coming back into view carrying a glass goblet, etched with fine lettering that looked vaguely familiar to Zan, filled to the brim with sparkling golden liquid she bid Zan to drink. “Drink this Miruvor. It will help you regain your strength.” The smile on the woman’s face immediately put the girl at ease, erasing her normally suspicious nature. She took the proffered glass and brought it to her lips. 

From the color Zan had initially wondered if the drink was some sort of alcohol but the first tentative taste quickly dispelled her of that notion. The drink was thick like honey and unbelievably sweet yet still refreshing. It tasted like nothing she had ever tried and had a heavily floral smell, as if it were perfume instead of a beverage. Immediately, she decided it was amazing. It wasn’t just the taste either but also the feeling of strength and wellness it gave to her. She greedily drained her cup and held it out before asking, “What’s Westron and who...who are you? 

“You know not that Westron is the common tongue, though you speak it well enough?” The woman remarked, concern rippled across her beautiful face before she brushed it aside to answer the second question as she stepped forward to retrieve the glass “I am Arwen Undomiel and you are safe in the house of my father, Lord Elrond of Rivendell.  


The words of the other woman, the one who called herself Arwen, sent such an abrupt chill down her spine that without meaning to Zan inadvertently dropped the glass she had been holding. The sound of it shattering against the stone floor barely registered as she looked around wildly. The woman, unaware of why her charge had reacted so strangely rushed forward to pick up the pieces and assure her guest that “it mattered not.” It was in that instant that the dark locks fell away from the woman’s face and exposed ears that Zan immediately recognized were most decidedly not human.  
She must have cried out because the dark haired woman quickly looked up and in that moment the elf saw real fear breaking across the injured girl’s face. She reached out a consoling hand and was surprised when the other pushed it violently away and shrieked, “Stay away from me!” 

In her defense, Zan knew she shouldn’t be reacting this way, but she couldn’t make herself stop. Was she losing her mind? The words of the other were reverberating impossibly in her head- Sindarin, Westron, Arwen Undomiel, Elrond, Rivendell! That… that was Tolkien! That was Lord of the Rings! She had read that book a million times. Practically knew it by heart! It just wasn’t possible. Having finally latched onto a thought that made sense she immediately repeated it aloud. “That’s not possible...that’s just not possible,” her voice rising in uncontrolled hysteria. The elf abandoned the glass and slowly stood up. A look of concern marring her face.  
“I do not understand what is wrong, but you are most safe here. Whatever is …”  


“Where am I really? You, who are you... you must tell me!  


“I am Arwen.”  


"Please, the truth this time!” Zan whispered though, to her, the weight of the words were as loud as a shout. The dark haired elf backed slowly toward the door, hands held out in a gesture that was meant to be show she was not a threat, but it did nothing to calm Zan’s mind.  


With the most composure the she-elf could muster, Arwen replied soothingly, “Yet, I speaketh the truth. I am Arwen, known to some as the Evenstar. Though he is holding counsel, I go to get my father. He is a wise leader and an accomplished healer. No matter your problem, he will be able to help you.” Then turning she disappeared through a doorway. In astonishment, Zan noticed the woman moved with a grace that she had never before seen and was faster than anyone who was human should have be able to move.  


Zan’s entire body shook with fear and frustration. Her mind was reeling as she tried again to make sense of the words that were both strange and familiar. Rivendell, Arwen, Elrond... Was this some trick of the mind? Was she going insane? That had to be it, she was going stark raving bonkers!

Suddenly a scarier thought came to her: was she dead? DEAD! That word slammed into her with such force that it felt like she had been physically struck in the gut. She remembered it all she once again relived it-the wreck, Ana’s screams, the pain as she hit the steering wheel, the crack of her head against the windshield. The sight of her best friend, eyes open wide, hanging lifeless beside her in the passenger seat of the overturned jeep, blood pooling on the torn soft top beneath her. She had killed her best friend! Ana was dead!  


Desiring only to run away from that reality, from what she had done, Zan flung off the covers and stumbled from the bed, but once she stood up she realized two things; she was better but definitely still injured but more importantly she saw the impossibility of what she was trying to do. You can never run far enough to escape the pain inside your own head. It was a lesson that had been ingrained into her from the hard life she’d lived after losing her parents in that terrible fire that took them. No matter how much you may want to, you can’t run away from yourself. For a second she stood stock-still, gulping for air and trying to calm herself. Then she made her decision. She had to get out of there! No matter if she was crazy or dead, in Maine or Canada or Rivendell, she absolutely must get back to the jeep! How long had she been gone? When she had climbed that mountain, all she had wanted was to call for help and then go back and get Ana out of the wreck. She had never meant to leave her friend, to abandon her body to the wilds of nature.  


She rushed through the archway on her left to find herself on a terrace overlooking a beautiful valley surrounded on all sides by mountains. The house was practically hanging off the side of one of the mountains. Numerous waterfalls cascaded down from the towering peaks of dizzying heights high above her and fell past her balcony and down, into clear, blue pools of sparkling water far, far below her. Directly ahead at roughly the same height as her terrace, a fancy metallic walking bridge branched off in multiple directions.One came in the direction of the house. Yet she perceived that bridge was just out of her reach and the sheer dropoff from the terrace was far enough to keep her from attempting the insane jump. If she was going to get away and back to Ana it wasn’t from here. Turning back, she decided to check out the other terrace. As she crossed the room, she eyed the only door in the room warily. She could go that way and hope to stumble upon the correct room that led out to the bridge. However, Arwen had disappeared through that door only a moment before, and Zan knew she was not quite ready to attempt that route. Then she realized if any of this were real she would soon have company! She had to go now while she could. Pushing her way past the gauzy curtain and out onto the other balcony she saw not fifteen feet below her was a large porch which itself was only a short drop to the ground. She knew she could easily escape that way by dangling from the railing and dropping down below had the porch not held a large contingent of people all of whom were in the process of turning to stare up at her.  


Standing at the balustrade, she saw with trepidation that below her, was the woman claiming to be Arwen and next to her was a tall, distinguished figure, already on his feet. He was dressed in earthy-brown, flowing robes, and had straight, brown hair adorned with a thin golden filament, a crown, which sat upon his head as if it belonged there; if the woman claiming to be Arwen Undomiel were to be believed, that could only be Elrond half-elven... but that was ludicrous! She could not make her mind wrap around such a thought! Next to the Elrond-imposter, that was the only way she could think of him, was a tall, regal figure of a man, also with long brown hair though the coloring was vastly different. As she watched the man rose and moved beside the raven haired ‘Arwen’ and reached out to comfort her. That would have to be Strider, Aragorn, if any of this were real….Again she told herself it was not, could not, be true! There had to be another explanation...something that made logical sense, an elaborate costume party or better yet a cosplay convention, anything but what she was seeing with her own two eyes.  


Surrounding the standing-trio, though still seated in high backed elegant chairs, were the peoples of many sizes and shapes...dare she think it...many races: some were short, stout and bearded with axes propped against their chairs; others were tall and as fair to behold as Arwen Undomiel, with similar glowing auras.  
Next, her eyes fell on a figure clothed all in grey, with a pointy but otherwise shapeless grey hat. He was slowly rising to his feet as he watched her, an expression of grave concern written on his wrinkled yet kindly face...Gandalf?!? Surely it couldn’t be…the wizard from her favorite book!  


Finally Zan saw the one thing that stopped her cold in her tracks and made her brain accept what she was seeing. Next to the wizard stood a very short, child-sized, brown headed boy. He was the last to look up at her, because his eyes were on a stone diaz not two feet in front of him from which a gleam of gold shone brightly in the afternoon sun. He could only have been one person… Frodo Baggins and she watched with growing interest as the hobbit… no he was just a boy...he had to be... reached out and closed tiny fingers over the gold ring and slipped it back into a jacket pocket before glancing her way. When he did, she saw that he wasn’t a child at all; he was a hobbit, a HOBBIT! And the look on his face was a cross between suspicion and concern.  


With a cry, Zan turned away and collapsed to the floor. The tears pouring down her face were as much from shock as they were from pain. Ana was dead, of that she had no doubt! Yet after what she just witnessed on the veranda below her, she also knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that in some inconceivable way, she had ended up in Middle Earth, in the middle of her favorite novel! She was, indeed, in Rivendell, and she had just crashed the friggin' Council of Elrond.

*******  
*Elvish Translations per http://www.realelvish.net/101_sindarin.html  
Av-'osto- Do not be afraid  
Echuio-Wake up  
Le nathlam hí- you are welcome here  
Pedil edhellen? Do you speak Elvish?


	2. Riddles in the Dark

Chapter 2 

Riddles in the Dark

 

To say the girl was distraught was a vast mischaracterization of the situation. Gandalf exchanged a wary glance with Aragorn. The fact that the first words out of her mouth when they had encountered her on the verandah had been“how are you real” was troubling most especially to the Elven ruler, but it was in the back of everyone's mind that perhaps she was not entirely sane. No one could doubt that the strange girl had been through some terrible ordeal but no one knew exactly what that was either. 

Stepping away from the girl Aragorn motioned Gandalf to his side. “Can we speak in private?” When Gandalf nodded he led the wizard back out into the foyer. “Perhaps it would be wise to keep her sedated awhile, at least until the matter with the ring is settled. We can ill afford another delay as the one we had today.” Aragorn suggested quietly.

“On that we do not agree.” The wizard countered. “She is here for a reason. Though I do not yet know what that may be, I feel it with a level of certainty I do not oft have in these dark times.”  
“Is her arrival entwined with that of the ring?” Aragorn asked.

“That I cannot answer with certainty but I do not think it so.” Aragorn relaxed visibly; obviously slightly more relieved at that pronouncement. “We, the free peoples of Middle Earth, have gathered here in Rivendell with the singular purpose of dealing with this ring, but I begin to wonder if I, at least, am not here for a dual purpose. Something draws me to her. I must speak with her when she is able.” Aragorn nodded and they both rejoined their companions. 

When the wizard and the ranger walked back into the room they found that somehow the elves had done the impossible; the girl was back in bed and was much calmer. In fact they were in the midst of a seemly normal conversation.

“You are in much need of rest as your body is still recovering from your injuries. I am going to give you something to help you remain calm so that you may sleep. There will be time for lengthy discussions when you have recovered” Elrond said soothingly as he gestured to his daughter. Arwen did as her father bid and brought a goblet of Miruvor and a small vial to Elrond. When the girl nodded her acquiescence, he broke the tip from the vial and poured it’s contents into the drink. Wordlessly Zan drank it down. The effect was immediate. Her anxiety and fear seemed to melt away and while she still felt the emotional pain she at least seemed detached from it.

“Tell us child, what's your name?” Gandalf queried sharply though not unkindly.

“Alexzandra, but I go by Zan.” Dark shadows flittered across her face as her voice dropped off into a silence in which she alone could hear the voice of her best friend saying, ‘well that's a mouthful how about I call you Zan.’ The once happy memory was now painful to remember in light of the fact that she had murdered Ana. 

“Zan, can you tell us from whence you came?” Elrond’s voice gently broke through the girl’s memories and brought her back to the present.

With large solemn eyes she glanced briefly at everyone in the room, knowing she could not tell these people before her the entire truth. She could not say they were characters from the most read novel of the twentieth century, lest they think her mad, so she decided the best course of action was to stick with very basic facts but be as vague as possible. Without knowing why her gaze landed on the wizard, and she began addressing him instead of Elrond. “I am from Texas in the land of America.”

“Cirdan the shipwright and I are old friends and he has never spoken of this place you call home, this America.” said Gandalf. It was not an accusation just a statement of fact.

“Cirdan” she repeated absent mindedly; what did she know about that Elf? Then it came to her and she remembered that it was Cirdan who had given one of the rings of power to Gandalf. Subconsciously, she glanced at the hand upon which the shipwright’s Elven ring of power, Narya, sat. When she realized what she was doing she quickly tore her eyes away from it and looked Gandalf in the eye once more. The sharp eyed wizard had noticed, but was careful to give no indication of it. 

“Nor have I heard of it” agreed Aragorn. “ and we have both traveled far into many strange and distant lands.” 

“In which direction does it lie?”

“Truthfully I do not know how I got here. Last thing I remember I was still in my land; though I have heard of Rivendell and of the wisdom of Elrond Half-elven, but I did not set out to come here. How long have I been here?”

“You were found nine days hence many leagues east of Rivendell by a contingent of Elves arriving from Mirkwood.You were gravely injured. We ...”

“Ana? Did you find Ana.” 

Elrond lifted an eyebrow in askance. “I am told, you were alone.”

“Yes, but Ana was there...her...body.” Tears started running down Zan’s cheek, but she brushed them away furiously. “I killed her...the wreck. It was my fault! I've got to find her body. She needs to be buried…” Pushing herself upright in bed she began again. “I need to go.”

“You are not yet well enough to travel that distance either by foot or horse.” 

“I don't care! I have to go. I have to...Ana needs to be... buried.”

“I understand your desire to go but you must understand, when you came to us you were at the very doorstep of death. You will not be given leave to go for at least a fortnight, I think. You must allow me to send out riders in your stead.”

“No…”

“I will take Legolas and go, at once.” Aragorn offered. He found you; he will know the exact location of where to start this search. Though you do not yet know me, rest assured we will not return until a thorough search is completed.” 

 

Oh, but I do know you, she thought, but bit her lip to keep from speaking. She was startled to realize that she had come so close to saying those words aloud. His character, if indeed it was as Tolkien had written, was unimpeachable. In response she nodded. If he was going to go then for now that would have to be enough.

“Take Asfaloth, it will shorten the journey.” Arwen said reaching out to touch Aragorn’s arm. He shook his head no. "Thangur will suffice. Elrond may yet have more pressing need of a swift steed than I. To do a thorough search requires time not speed, lady." Gently he brushed his rough hand across her cheek and rested it under her chin. It was a tender scene and Zan knew she should look elsewhere, give them a moment of privacy, but she couldn't help staring. Here before her was the sweetest and saddest love story she’d ever heard of. She'd always wished Arwen had a bigger part in LOTR and she’d hated the sad ending to Arwen’s life as she had read it countless times in the Appendices. Now here they were before her in all their living glory, and she could not look away. The scene lasted another few seconds before Arwyn whispered for him to be safe. Zan could tell the moment was significant for them.With a nod he withdrew his hand and turned toward Lord Elrond. 

“And the council?” He asked in a soft tone and Zan couldn't help but notice the wary glance he sent her way. Had he meant for her not to hear that?

“It will wait until you return. Should we expect you back in within the fortnight?” 

Nay, if we are to be as thorough as the lady desires, then I should think a month at the latest. Though Legolas could perhaps give a better answer that. With permission, my Lord, I will take my leave." Elrond assented and Aragorn gave another curt nod then left the room before she could thank him. 

Zan wondered at the look he had given her. She knew without a doubt, that one glance had spoken volumes. Then, with startling clarity,a realization broke through the fog of fuzzy thoughts, probably caused by whatever calming drug Elrond had put in her second cup of Miruvor and with it came a shiver up her spine . Aragorn, the stalwart, fearless ranger she’d grown up reading about and idolizing didn't trust her! He had always been her favorite character, her hero. The life of a ranger had always appealed to her from a very young age and the feelings had only intensified after her parents had died. After they’d passed on, only her grand mom, had ever given her a place that had any semblance of a home. Despite being shuffled from one uncaring family member to the the next, and perhaps because of it, she'd never stopped wishing she was a Ranger. She imagined herself roaming the wilds with him. Imagined herself guarding the Shire, tracking Gollum, drinking at the Inn of the Prancing Pony, doing whatever else Rangers did. 

She didn't think she'd ever had a crush on him but that was probably only because she'd heard about the Arwen/Aragorn relationship well before she had been old enough to fall in love with anyone. Her mom, a college professor had taught a class on Tolkien’s middle earth, ergo she had grown up hearing bedtime stories from Middle Earth. As far back as she could remember Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, The Silmarillion, had been a part of her life. 

One of her favorite memories was spending Sundays, after church, with her mom curled up in their comfy chairs in their library reading together and often it had been Tolkien. The library had really just been their basement, but the walls had been lined with bookcases that were brimming with books, and for Zan it had been a magical place that now lived on only in her memory.It all changed the fateful night of the fire. At some point, that night? Perhaps a day or two later? she’d heard the fire marshall tell someone that arson was suspected. The fire had started in the basement and it looked as if an accelerant had been used. But none of that had never made any sense to Zan. Why would anyone have wanted to kill her parents? But that wasn't the only question that haunted her. Why had she and some friend, whose name she no longer remembered, chosen that night to have a sleepover just down the street? Why couldn't she have been there at home that fateful night? Why couldn't she have just died with them too?

After they had died, she had been nine when it had happened, her world had fallen apart. She could still remember standing in her own front yard with her nameless neighbors watching her house burn. She had heard the fire engines and talked her friend into sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night wanting to see the excitement; something big was actually happening in her sleepy neighborhood and she didn't want to miss it! Excitement had quickly turned to fear as the girls crested the hill and saw it was Zan’s house that was ablaze. She had immediately burst into a run and didn't at first realize her friend had turned around and run back down the hill. Nameless girl had later said it was to get her parents, but Zan had always wondered if that was the truth. She could still hear and feel the slap of her bare feet on the road, how bright the fire looked against the night sky, how winded she had been upon reaching her yard and her building terror as she searched the faces for the only two that mattered to her. When she realized they were not there, she had tried to run into the house, screaming for her mom and dad. Only the strong arms of a neighbor had kept her from joining them. Later after they were buried and she started her new life, reading Tolkien been the only way she could hold onto her mom. She remembered her grand mom taking her to the used bookstore in town, looking for Lord of the Rings and being unable to find it. So Gran had driven her to the city and they had gone to a Barnes and Noble to buy the book. It wasn't the first edition print that had been her mom’s prize possession, but it was all hers! And a hardback edition. Only once she had gotten older did she realize how precious that trip had been in more ways than one. Not only had her Gran been on a fixed income, so she had sacrificed to buy her that book, but it was also the last trip she had made with her grandma. Three months later Gran too was dead and her nightmare life had begun. Meeting Ana Medeiros two years after that had been the first good thing she could remember happening in a long, long time.

With the knowledge that Aragorn didn't see her as the friend she'd always imagined they would be, a cold fire ran through her veins. Suddenly she was very afraid and with it came that niggling thought that perhaps she was mad after all. That at least would make sense on some level. She must have been unable to keep the fear off of her face because Arwen reached out and took her hand. 

“Are you okay?” Staring up at Arwen, Zan nodded too afraid to speak “You really are safe here. The borders of this land are well protected. Whatever you fear shall not come to pass.” It took a full moment for Zan to find the strength to respond to the Elven princess. 

. “I am just very tired.” She hated that the words were a lie! but she knew she needed time to consider her options. She had to proceed carefully, lest they think her mad. She knew she had already made at least one mistake when she had asked how they were real, and she could ill afford another error. Gandalf and Elrond both were known for their extraordinary wisdom. She knew she needed to get them on her side, if she was to survive here in this strange land, if indeed they were even real at all. If they were real?

“Perhaps It would be best to let the lady sleep. We can continue these discussions on the morrow.” Zan wasn't sure who had said that, Gandalf or Elrond because she was still watching Arwen with total concentration trying to make up her mind; were they figments of her imagination or real beings? However she was quick to nod her agreement and was immensely relieved when they turned to leave, but she couldn't help overhearing the quiet question Arwen posed to her father as they left the room. walking from the room. 

“Will she be okay, *adar?”

“Ned lu amin sell.” was the Elven lord’s reply. 

Zan didn’t know Sindarin, but she wasted no time trying to decern the elf lord's response.His response mattered not in the least when she knew the true answer to the Elven princess’ question; she did not, however, offer it up. That answer was, from Zan's point of view, a resounding no! So why would she waste time pondering Elrond’s response? She had other more urgent thoughts to occupy her time such as how she ended up in Rivendell.

“I was hoping the lady would be able to explain what malady had befallen her,” Elrond mused once he knew they were out of earshot. “When she arrived she was gravely injured even beyond what I would expect if she were involved in a fall from great heights. Many broken ribs, a punctured lung, and injuries to the head. I did not expect her to survive but she has a great will in her to live.”

“What do you think caused the injuries, Lord Elrond?” Concern laced Gandalf’s voice. She was an enigma, but he knew she was not a dangerous one. He sensed none of the evil malice an agent of the Dark Lord would possess.

“I am at a loss to say. She merely said a ...wreck, but I am not familiar with this word. Come we will walk in the garden and hold counsel on this matter.”

“Adar, I think it best that I stay near in case our guest is in need of something.” Arwen replied and turned back to resume her place in the alcove.

 

Once the room was cleared Zan lay wide awake unsure of how things should proceed. She stared once again at the ornate ceiling, but this time she was not really seeing it. So many questions were buzzing through her head that she scarcely knew where to start. What had happened to her and more importantly where was Ana?What were the chances of it being a coincidence that she would arrive in Rivendell right when the Council of Elrond was meeting to decide the fate of the One Ring? If she gave anything away before the appropriate time would they think her some agent of the enemy sent to recover knowledge of the ring? Unbidden, the title from chapter five of The Hobbit came into her mind, Riddles in the Dark. At first she wandered what had brought it to the forefront of her thoughts but eventually she worked it out; when she did she laughed mirthlessly at the improbability of it all. She realized with dread that she was indeed facing riddles in the dark. The darkness here was no cave with orcs and a hobbit like creature skulking about. The darkness here was inside herself. It had been inside her waiting, growing, since she was nine years old. Now it was threatening to swallow her whole. The riddles were these questions that had no good answers. At last she decided in the greater scheme of things whether these people were real was the least of her worries, being faced with the situation that stood before her now.

There was one question, though, with a quick and easy answer: was the reason she was here, in this place and time related to the quest to destroy the ruling ring? She quickly decided that no matter what circumstances befell her she had absolutely no intention of going with the fellowship on their quest to destroy the Ruling ring. That was way too dangerous for her. Then she quickly made another decision; despite feeling drawn to these middle earthers, she decided it would be wise to start thinking of them, not as those characters from her favorite novel that she knew so well but as living, breathing people- at least until her brain could decide if she was hallucinating or not.  
The hardest question, though, was one she couldn’t even begin to ask herself. How was she ever going to be able to live with herself after killing Ana! 

**Elvish translations per http://www.jrrvf.com/cgi-bin/hisweloke/sintrans.cgi  
Adar- father  
Ned lu amin sell- With time, my daughter


	3. A Conversation with a Wizard

 

 

  
“Lady Alexzandra, how are you feeling this morn?” Lord Elrond asked with what appeared to Zan to be genuine concern. Arwen entered the room as well.

  
“Please just Alexzandra or Zan. I am no lady!” Silently she added I’m a murderer.

  
“I have given this matter considerable thought, and I think it best you travel to Lothlorien and seek the counsel of the Lady of the Golden Wood. You do not know how you came to be in this land and she can oft see things no one else can see. All roads are now perilous but some less so than others. I shall send you by the safest roads and in the company of my steadfast sons, Elladan and Elrohir.

  
“No!” was her immediate and resounding answer and the raw desperation within her voice surprised everyone, but no one as much as Zan herself. “I must find Ana!” Then her tone became accusatory and perhaps downright hostile. “Yesterday you said it would be some time before I could travel myself, yet today you want to send me to see Galadriel! Was it all a lie!” Zan asked as she sat up abruptly and made a move to get out of bed.

  
In doing so her chest was racked with pain. Immediately tears rushed to her eyes and she found it hard to breathe. A fleeting thought passed into her mind, how had she gotten out of bed last night!?! Then they were beside her. It was Arwen who put a restraining hand on her shoulder and applied just enough pressure to send the girl back into the pillows she had been propped against. Zan obeyed the Elf and didn't try to move again.

  
Elrond spoke in a soothing tone. “My lady, you misunderstand me! You are not yet well enough to travel as is evidenced by how you are now feeling. I merely sought to put your mind at ease as to our eventual course of action. Arwen, bring a vial of adant and a glass of miruvor.”

  
“Oh!” The word was flat and weak, but it was the only thing she could manage to say. Dropping her head in shame she refused to make eye contact with him again. Yet she couldn't even manage an apology despite knowing it was sorely needed. She wanted to but as the explosive anger had dissipated it had left her feeling exhausted beyond words and so sad she had to fight not to cry. Silence hung heavy between them until Arwen arrived goblet in hand spoke again.  
  
“I will be accompanying you as well,” Arwen smiled as she spoke. “It has been many long years since I last visited haruni.” She handed the vial and glass to her father who immediately combined the two liquids.

  
“Drink; you will feel better.”

  
One sip of the healing cordial and she knew the answer to her previous question. It wasn’t an instant cure-all but from the first sip she could feel the pain lessen considerably and even the invasive sadness that had been threatening to overwhelm her begin to slip away. Some small measure of strength seemed to return to her. By the time she found and uttered the words ‘I'm sorry’ Elrond was already retreating and she could not be sure he had even heard her.

  
Desperately she looked to Arwen. “ Please,” she pleaded, “tell Lord Elrond I am sorry. I don't know why I reacted as I did.”

  
Arwen made a gesture that was meant to brush the whole incident aside, but she stopped when she saw the look on the human’s face. “He knows. We understand you are not yet well and nothing of your behavior would be held against you at any rate. We Elves are an understanding lot and no one is wiser than my father. Now sleep while you can. I will be nearby if you need anything.”

  
Exhaustion overpowered Zan and she gave in to the desire for oblivion without even a conscious thought.

  
****

  
It took another four days before Zan was able to get up out of bed but only for a few hours at a time. During the other endless hours she had little else to do but sleep,and keep counsel in her head. She replayed her entire visit with Ana and thought constantly about the wreck. Time passed agonizingly slowly. Each day Lord Elrond would check her progress. At first the Elven Ruler tried to engage her in conversation, but it did not take long for Elrond to see the futility of his efforts. Though he could sometimes see her making an effort to try to open up and answer his probing questions, more often than not she remained distant, aloof, and above all deeply saddened by the death of her friend. Deciding that perhaps the girl just needed time to adjust he gave up questioning her.

  
Arwen, however did not give up on engaging Zan. She continued to sit with her for long stretches of time. They talked mostly about whatever topic Arwen brought up. While she appreciated the company Zan knew she was failing miserably at holding up her end of the conversation. When she did talk, she was very guarded and constantly afraid she would slip up in some way.  
During the day if Zan thought at all about the possibility that she was crazy it was only in passing, but when she was alone at night, it was an entirely different story. She was consumed with questions about insanity, guilt, death and how she could have done things differently. When she did manage to sleep, she was haunted by dreams of Ana’s death but spoke of them to no one.  
Eventually she was given leave to wander around the house for short periods of time and she would explore often ending up in the East library, which was near to her room, but even then she kept herself isolated and rarely spoke to anyone. Her meals were brought to her and she ate alone in her room.  
  
The day Elrond pronounced that she was not longer confined to bed should have felt like a small victory, but Zan barely felt anything at all. More frightening though was the realization that she couldn't have cared less if she tried.

  
In her continued wanderings she found that the last homely house east of the sea was far bigger than she’d ever imagined. It was a mansion unlike any she had ever seen. In reality the only other mansion she had ever visited had been the Biltmore Estate in North Carolina and Rivendell made Biltmore seem almost quaint in comparison.  It was multi storied, not the sprawling ranch she had always imagined it would be. There were multiple banquet halls, three separate libraries, some sort of performance hall, and countless other seating parlors, bedrooms and even a museum relating the history of Middle Earth; and all of that was just Elrond's house. There were other lessor buildings Zan had only seen from afar. 

  
She loved all of the libraries and would spend hours looking at ancient tomes written in various languages, none of which she could read unless it was written in Westron, the common tongue. Once Arwen realized Zan's love of books, she'd given the girl a gift, her own copy of a translation book. It was a small, thick book with a practical purpose. Finally she could understand what was written in all those books she'd examined. henceforth she kept it with her at all times. Aside from the obvious reason, Zan also treasured it because Arwen's kind gesture left her with no doubt, she was not completely alone in her new life.

  
Zan’s favorite place to be was outside in the gardens, though she usually had a book with her. It was only there among the numerous colorful flowers, the beautiful scenery and the peaceful sounds did she feel anything other than the numbing coldness that had slowly and completely seeped into her soul.  
On many occasions she would pass by solitary or groups of elves, but they merely politely greeted her and did not attempt to engage her in prolonged conversation; a fact for which she was very grateful. The only person she felt any connection to was Arwen and even then only barely. She knew that was only because the elven princess had been persistent in her visits. Even after she was no longer a patient in need of company, Arwen would search her out and try valiantly to pull Zan outside of the prison walls the depression had erected in her mind. It wasn’t often that she succeeded. 

At first she’d thought Arwen was visiting out of some misguided sense of hospitality, and that given time it would end. Though after The gift of the book, she began to doubt that was the reason, but she also could not come up with an equally plausible one. The fact that it was due to the kindness of the Elven woman's personality had so far not occurred to the human. Another thing that perplexed Zan was she had not seen Gandalf, any member of the yet-to-be-formed fellowship, nor even a single hobbit, though that was about to change.  
  
By the best of her reckoning it had been just over three weeks since Legolas and Aragorn had left to scour the countryside, when Elrond came to her room one morning to inform her that there was to be a banquet that evening. Zan had been up for hours trying to read some books about Middle Earth, but eventually she grew tired of translating and had spent the last hour studying the pullout maps in a large red, geography book. She was trying to find something different, really anything different, from her mother’s books. Not that it would prove anything regarding her sanity; really it was more to keep her mind occupied than anything else. But she kept thinking if she could find any difference in what she knew and what she was currently living, that somehow it would be important. So far though she'd struck out.

She noticed the change in the Elven ruler’s demeanor as soon as he’d spoke the first word.  “Lady Alexzandra, you are formally requested to attend this evening's banquet in the main dining hall.” Whereas he had always seemed patient before, now he was direct and all business.  
  
“Thank you for the offer, but I would prefer to eat in my room.”

  
“It wasn’t really a request. Your attendance is mandatory as you are one of the guests of honor. My daughter has informed me that you have become quite reclusive. That is in part my own fault. I had instructed others to leave you be so that you could heal and adjust to our ways, as you are quite clearly not comfortable here. No more! I can see that I was in error. I expect to see you this evening at the dinner bell.” Then he turned and left. Zan sat in stunned silence. Elrond hadn’t been rude or disrespectful, just assertive and direct as strong, experienced leaders tended to be. She was still staring after him slack-jawed when Arwen appeared.

  
“I came to offer my assistance in choosing your attire for this evening,” Arwen said with a smile.

  
“Arwen, I don’t know what you said to him, but you have got to tell your father I can’t make it tonight.”

  
“You may well not know this yet, but no one tells Elrond of Rivendell no, not when he has set his mind upon something. Face it, you will be in attendance this evening. Besides I merely informed him of the truth that anyone, who stops to look, can see. You are not happy here and you have done a remarkable job of isolating yourself. Zan I don’t know how you were before you were hurt, but you are much too quiet to be a daughter of the race of man. In fact, in all my years I have not known anyone, in any race to be as uncommunicative as you.”

  
“Arwen, I am just here biding my time until Aragorn... returns with Ana. Once I take care of that I am hoping things will get back to … ” Zan stopped mid sentence appalled she had almost said too much.

  
“To what?” She queried. “Whenever you talk about Ana or your previous life you begin speaking in fragmented, incomplete sentences. Why?”

  
“Look I appreciate all you and your father have done to help me but there are things I can't talk about, not now and not ever.” Zan said making eye contact and holding Arwen’s attention.

  
“If indeed that is true it is a most sorrowful existence!” The empathetic look on her face gave Zan pause, but after a brief moment she brushed it away like an annoying buzzing insect. Zan knew she couldn't tell Arwen of her own sorrowful future anymore than she could change what she had done to Ana Medeiros. She could see in Arwen's eyes that there was no way to win this argument.

  
“Fine, but you might as well know now, I won't look right in your Elvish clothing.” Up until now the girl had steadfastly refused the offer of new clothing and had continued to wear the denim jeans, Swat boots, Tom Petty tee and the blue suede jacket she'd put on the day of the crash. “But if I must, I'd prefer something in blue.” There was no joy or even anticipation in her voice but that did nothing to quell Arwen's smile.

  
“Excellent! Let me see what I can do. I also was asked to inform you that there is a guest that is eager to meet you.”

  
“Who?” Zan asked, trepidation beginning to ripple through her soul.

  
“You’ve seen him once before though you may not recall it; his name is Gandalf. He was there when you first woke up in my father’s house.

  
“I know Gandalf...well I know of him, though we’ve never met.” On more than one occasion she had wondered when they would meet. With the both of them being in Rivendell it was, inevitable and even somewhat surprising, that it had taken this long. Now Zan wondered if that had been Elrond's doing.

  
“He'll be waiting for you in the East library at the strike of the noon bell.” She added with a smile. Zan did not return it.

  
There was no point in putting the off encounter, so Zan gathered her things and headed for the library. She was much too early but planned to find a cozy spot from which to continue her examination of the geography of Middle Earth.

  
When she arrived she quickly found an unoccupied chaise lounge near the hearth of an enormous fireplace. Wrapping up in a blanket, more for security than comfort, she stared into the blue-orange blaze for awhile before opening the book up to a new page. She found herself looking at a detailed map of Minas Tirith, the Pelennor fields, Osgiliath and Mordor. Beside the map, the cartographer had included detailed columns of information; none of it was written in the common tongue so Zan pulled out her pocket translator and began the arduous task of translating the Elven writing.

  
She became so engrossed in her task that she must have missed the noon bell entirely. It wasn't until she heard someone nearby clear his throat that she pulled her head out of her book and checked her surroundings. Seated in the chair right beside her was Gandalf. He gave her a warm smile.

  
“I see that you are studying a map of Gondor. Are you planning for a journey?”

  
“No not really...well maybe, but if I do, it won't be to Gondor.” Zan briefly paused unsure of herself but then continued on. “Maps have always fascinated me. The whole adventure thing, I guess.” Zan said tentatively returning the Wizard’s smile. Inwardly she wondered if that fascination might not better be classified as a desire to escape, to run away.

  
“It seems as if you have a decision to make.” He said with another smile then continued on in a more serious tone. “I am known to some as Gandalf and you are Lady Alexzandra, I presume?”

  
“Yes, but you already know that. Arwen said you asked for this meeting. What is it you want?”

  
“Indeed I did.” He raised one eyebrow in surprise. “I must say, you are refreshingly direct.”

  
“Not always, but I can be.

  
“For now I only desire to talk.”

  
“Tell me, why do you, Gandalf the Grey, one of the istari, want to talk to someone as inconsequential as me?” He raised the other eyebrow and gave her a piercing look upon hearing her utter the word istari. Whoops! She'd done it again! She'd made a mistake and with Gandalf of all people!

  
“Honestly, I do not yet know.” She felt trapped beneath Gandalf's gaze. With effort she looked away off in the distance, but in truth she was not seeing anything. “You certainly know something about me; something, I might add, that is not known to many. I find it both interesting and unlikely that you proclaim to be inconsequential. Tell me, how is it you know that about me? As I know we have never met, not even in passing.”

  
“No you are right in that. We have never met. As for knowing things…. I can't explain how.”

  
“Can't or won't?”

  
Unsure of how to answer that question, she paused to consider her options. Lie to Gandalf or tell the truth? If she lied to him he'd probably know; this was GANDALF after all. He always knew mysterious things in the book, so it was likely to assume the same was true here. But if she told the truth he would think her mad. Then she realized she had taken too long, and her silence had probably spoken as loudly as if she had used her voice to actually tell him “won't”. One quick glance at Gandalf told her she was right. Her silence had indeed spoken volumes! He looked disappointed and she quickly diverted her gaze once again. A frown appeared on her face before she realized it and was able to force herself to wipe it away.

  
She’ d grown up loving the enigmatic, at times prickly, yet also unerringly good Gandalf of the book series and had admired Ian Mckellen's spot-on portrayal of the character in the movies. Gandalf always seemed to give the best advice. The first time she'd reread the novel after the loss of her parents, he had at times seemed to speak to her personally. Her favorite quote was what the wizard had said to Frodo when the hobbit had confessed that he wished his quest had never happened. Gandalf had said, “So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for you to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given you.” Those were words of wisdom she had recalled countless times during her unhappy teen years and tried to live by.

  
With despair she realized she'd struck out again! Here she was failing with Gandalf which pained her greatly after her encounter with Aragorn. Sure the ranger had gone to look for Ana, but not out of any feelings for her. He’d gone out of a sense of duty, not friendship and Zan knew she'd best remember that. No matter how much she wanted it, these people were not friends, though they’d felt that way to her for years now. They were strangers every last one of them. So despite an almost overpowering urge to tell Gandalf the truth about everything, she managed to hold her tongue.

  
Finally after a painfully long silence Gandalf spoke again in an effort to restart their floundering conversation. “No matter.”

  
“Doesn't it though!” Zan whispered quite without meaning to, then she made herself look him in the eye. “I mean, how could it not? You don't know me; for all you know I could be keeping secrets out of malice.”

  
He was looking at her as though he was just beginning to see her clearly for the first time. After a long pause he said, “ True, we are strangers. However, I know enough. I sense that is not what you are doing. You are conflicted about what you can and cannot say and that is why you are holding back. Is that not correct?”  
  
With a sigh of relief Zan nodded. Though she couldn't even come close to telling what else he was might thinking, she was thankful that at least he knew she was no agent of evil. Hiis expression was kind, so she chose to take his expression as a good sign. Suddenly she knew exactly what she could ask him without jeopardizing anything. “Gandalf, I don't know how I got here at all. One moment I was in my world, then I remember falling and I woke up here. I'm afraid…what if….how does a person know if they are going insane?”

  
The look of compassion on his face brought forth the tears she’d been trying so hard to hide. She wiped at her eyes roughly, angry that they had betrayed her. He leaned forward and gently touched her arm. “Lady Alexzandra, in my experience, people sane enough to worry about such as that rarely, if ever, have cause for worry. It's the people without the capacity to ask such a coherent, relevant question about whom we should worry.”

  
A single, solitary, strangled sob of relief escaped from Zan's throat before she was able to subdue it. Nodding vigorously she let his words sink deep into her soul and ease the escalating fear she been dealing with for weeks. When she could manage it she whispered her thanks.

  
“That's been haunting you for some time now, hasn't it?”

  
Zan didn't trust herself to speak so she nodded instead.

  
“Alas, I am sorry for that! I had intended we speak sooner, but I was called away on urgent business from which I have just returned.” When she gave him an I'm-alright-now look,  Gandalf pulled his hand away. “ I now wish that I had taken the time to speak to you at least once before I'd left if only to have answered that one question for you.”

  
“I don't think I would’ve had the guts to ask you that three weeks ago.” Zan admitted allowing herself one final sniffle before pulling herself back together.

  
He nodded sympathetically. He had noticed her use of the word ‘world’ and it concerned him greatly. He vowed to speak of it with Elrond, today if possible. He also rightly surmised now was the most inopportune time to press the matter. “My lady, have you had an opportunity to lunch yet today? If not I'd be honored if you would go with me.  When she nodded her consent, he politely took her hand and led Zan to the west dining hall.

 

 

 

 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

 

  
**Elvish translations per http://www.jrrvf.com/cgi-bin/hisweloke/sintrans.cgi  
haruni- quenya for grandmother


	4. A Tricky Affair

From Zan’s perspective, lunch with Gandalf was an altogether tricky affair. Even when answering the most mundane of questions she couldn’t help wondering what she was giving away just by opening her mouth. For the most part Gandalf seemed interested in asking what she considered trivial questions, but Zan knew that didn't mean he wasn't reading between the lines. Though, she thought it was telling, the subjects Gandalf didn't even attempt to broach, namely anything about Zan’s past, where she was from, Ana, or the wreck. He actually did a lot more talking than asking questions, relaying a litany of facts about the happenings of various kingdoms in Middle Earth.  
It wasn't until they were about to part ways that Gandalf actually said anything that stunned Zan, and when he did it left her speechless. “ I gather from the fact that you have not asked the purpose of the meeting your awakening interrupted a few weeks back, that you do not believe it to be a matter that concerns you. While I cannot definitively tell you whether it does or not as I have not yet discerned the purpose of your arrival, I can say that you, Alexzandra, are here for a reason. Until you and I discover that purpose I will not rule out anything. That is what I shall tell Lord Elrond when next we meet to strategize. I look forward to talking with you further at tonight’s feast, and we will meet again here for lunch tomorrow.” It wasn't a question, but a statement of certainty. After he delivered his surprising monologue Gandalf stood and exited the dining hall without looking back.  
Slightly dazed by Gandalf’s sudden revelation, Zan remained seated for a good ten minutes just pondering the meaning of his words. Was he implying that she needed to be involved in the Counsel of Elrond? Or did it go further than that! Was he hinting that she might have a place in the Fellowship? Why had he spent all of lunch giving her a history lesson about middle earth? And what exactly did he mean about telling Elrond he was ruling nothing out?  
Finally she came to the conclusion that Tolkien had stated the truth when he said “it is best not to meddle in the affairs of Wizards for they are subtle and quick to anger.” She recalled that he had written that particular quote into a conversation between Frodo and some Elves the hobbit had meet in the woods after leaving the Shire. At first she thought it strange that she would think of it now, but she realized after a moment that it was probably her subconscious mind sending her a warning. After all, her current best choice of action was to wait and let Gandalf play out his hand. She wondered if her saying no would anger Gandalf: no to the counsel, no to the fellowship, no to lunch tomorrow, but she had a distinct feeling that things would not be that easy, not now or even in a million years!

***

When Zan did return to the room she found a note from Arwen saying preparations for tonight's festivities were well in hand. In fact, she indicated in her note that they might have time for Zan’s first horseback riding lesson if lunch did not go overly long. Arwen said if she was available then come to the Garden in early afternoon  
“Horseback riding? Where had that even come from?” Zan muttered to herself as she dropped off her books and headed outside. Still it might be kind of fun, certainly better than staying cooped up in her room, sitting around dreading tonight’s dinner! Zan had, only once in her life, been on a horse, back when she was in high school. Now she wondered if perhaps she had told that to Arwen a few weeks back during one of their conversations. Still it made sense, in a way, for her to learn that skill as it was the primary mode of travel in these parts. She did not yet know if she was going to take Elrond's advice and travel to Lothlorien. Everything would depend on what Legolas and Aragorn found;but she did know one thing, if they returned empty handed she would go and search for herself.  
Zan found Arwen in the garden on her knees planting flowers. It was such an odd sight to see the prim and proper Elven princess down in the dirt that she actually had to smother a laugh. Apparently she was none too successful at it though, because Arwen immediately looked up in askance.

“Noth..” She cut her own sentence short and amended her words after looking at Arwen’s face. “Um, you have a smudge of dirt on your nose.”

“Do I now?” Arwen asked. “I can see that this amuses you greatly! Why pray tell?” She made no attempt to brush the dirt away.

“Oh, you just never seemed like the gardening type, I guess.” Zan responded quickly. 

“I didn't realize that one had to be of a certain type to enjoy helping things grow.” Arwen replied seriously and stern-faced as she stood and dusted off her knees. She looked, if anything, miffed at Zan. 

Concerned she had somehow managed to offend the normally unflappable Arwen, she looked away and mumbled, “I'm sorry! I didn't mean that like it sounded.” The sound of laughter made her whip her head back around. 

“You thought I was serious, didn't you? Zan, I was playing around with you!!!” Arwen chuckled. Her laughter was almost contagious and brought an instant smile to the human’s face. When she finally stopped laughing, she reached up and brushed at her nose; she raised a questioning eyebrow. 

“Yes you got it”

“By the way it's nice to see you smile!”

That brought Zan up short again and her smile faded. It sounded just like something Ana Medeiros would have said. 

“Oh, I didn't mean to ruin it!” Arwen said so sincerely upon seeing the girl’s smile fade that Zan felt an immediate need to explain herself.

“You didn't! You just sounded like my friend. You sounded just like Ana!” Feeling entirely too self conscious she tried her best to make herself smile again, but her emotions were too raw. 

“You two were close.” Arwen asked quietly as she guided Zan toward the stables. She figured it was best to try to keep the girl talking. This was the first time Zan had directly referenced her friend by name since the first day she had awoken. Whether the girl knew it or not this was a big step for her. The elf didn't intend to let the moment go by. “Weren't you?”

“Yeah. You know where I come from they say you can't choose your family, but we did. We did! Or rather, she did. We met when we were young and she was bound and determined to keep in touch even after I moved away. She was like a sister to me and she was my very best friend.” Zan whispered as tears flooded her eyes. “ I miss her so much it hurts and I don't think it's ever going to stop!

“Losing someone close to you can be hard!” the elf commiserated. 

Zan gave Arwen a side-long glance, but her only reply was a nod. Arwen seemed as though she had lost someone too: a friend? A family member? Zan didn't ask. The two walked on in companionable silence until they reached the stables. “Sometimes, her death, well, actually none of this, even seems real!” Zan added and darted inside before Arwen could answer. Admitting that was hard enough, but staying still and hearing someone, even someone as kind as Arwen, try to talk about that was intolerable. 

Arwen must have known that or sensed it somehow, because when she entered the stables she acted as though nothing had been said, and Zan was grateful for that. “Come, let me introduce you to your ride.” Zan followed Arwen through the barn unsure of how she felt about the smell. It was the first time she had actually been in a barn as the previous time she had ridden a horse had been at a fair. Then she was distracted by a huge horse sticking its head out of a nearby stall. 

Arwen greeted the horse like an old friend. “Hello, Asfaloth. No we can't take you ,out today. I think our guest needs to start with someone not quite as spirited as you.” She patted the Andalusian stallion and he nickered in response. “Don't fret. I'll send word to Glorfindel that you want to go for a run. 

Zan watched the exchange with interest. After another moment Arwen bid farewell to the horse and turned to address her. “You are going to ride Faerdhine which means silent spirit in Sindarin, and she is as gentle a horse as you could want. She's right back here.” 

“Are you going to ride too?”

“No, but I'm going to hang around the yard and watch your lesson. Now come on, I'll teach you how to saddle up Faerdhine, then I'll introduce you to Calon who will be your trainer. 

 

****  
The horseback lesson ended up being a great distraction, and Zan found when she was riding Faerdhine, she felt something that could best be described as a stirring in her chest. She actually felt something other than the awful numbness or the gnawing sadness that plagued her every waking moment. She wasn't entirely sure what emotion she was feeling; it wasn't happiness or joy. It felt more like fascination or maybe a purpose. As soon as she got off Faerdhine she knew she wanted to come back again, and asked Arwen when it would be possible. She was surprised by the answer. Basically she could come back whenever she wanted to. 

Not long after the lesson was over, Arwen declared it was time to get ready for the dinner party. Shortly after a hot bath, Zan found herself wearing a dusky blue silk dress with lace trim at the neckline and on the flowing sleeves. It seemed to fit fine, which surprised Zan. Arwen next placed a sleeveless, hooded velvet cape of a dark blue, almost navy in color, that she affixed with a sparkling silver brooch. Both the dress and cape were floor length with a train that dragged the floor behind Zan when she walked. It was an elegant, beautiful dress the equal of which Zan had never seen before in her life let alone wore. Her only issue was the shoes. She was not going to be able to wear the fancy high heels Arwen had brought, not when she had so little experience wearing that type of shoe and no experience with wearing a dress with a train. Zan found the dress kept getting wrapped around her legs and threatening to topple her if she even thought about moving, so adding the shoes would make any movement a nightmare.

“There's no way I'm going to be able to use those shoes without falling right on my face.”

“Give me a second,” Arwen said and disappeared. She returned carrying a pair of sandals and a pair of soft soled suede boots. “Which do you prefer?”

“I guess the boots.” She handed them over. Zan slipped them onto her feet and was surprised at how comfortable they felt. “These I can do. Arwen, I'm concerned about somehow ruining the dress. I could get food or drink spilt on it or tear the train.”

“No need to fret about that. If anything happens we will get the dress cleaned and fixed before it is returned to you.”

“Are you saying this is mine? I thought I was borrowing someone else's dress.”

“Yes this is a gift.” Arwen says with a smile. 

Momentarily speechless as tears unexpectedly came into her eyes, Zan could do little more than nod her head. When she could speak it was a whisper. “Thank you! You and your father have done so much for me, more than I deserve…” Zan trailed off, looking down, and wiping furiously at her eyes before the tears brimming there could spill out. 

Arwen clasp her shoulder. “It is the way of my people.”

“Yes but you have been a friend to me during a time I neither expected or deserved it. Thank you!” Now that the last two words were out she realized how many times over the last several weeks when she should have said them.”

“Come, let us go now or we will be late!”

Zan nodded wordlessly, but the thought running through her head was this was going to be another altogether tricky affair.


	5. Feast and Famine

Arwen led Zan down a long, narrow corridor the human had never seen before though it began near to the East Library where Zan spent a good deal of time each day. She was beginning to realize that though she had wandered almost ceaselessly since she’d arrived, there always seemed to be more to explore in the last homely house east of the sea. As they exited the hall and passed through a large open foyer with paintings and table after table of relics from bygone eras of middle earth, there came a ringing of many sharp, clear bells.  
“That is our signal. The feast has begun. Another two minutes walk brought them to an arched doorway that was closed to them. Pushing against the double doors, Arwen and Zan entered a large ornate, dining hall that was filled to capacity. All around the room people were in various states of preparing to feast. Some were just finding their seats while others already had their plates piled high with delicious morsels of favorite foods. There were many more Elves than Zan had seen so far during her stay in Rivendell. There was also a large contingent of Dwarves, and even a few from the race of man. As she passed by, Zan caught sight of four merry hobbits already beginning to eat. Their plates laden with many unknown delicacies. As she passed by Frodo made eye contact and with a gracious smile dipped his head towards her in recognition. Zan was glad the previously apparent suspicion was no longer anywhere to be seen. Nodding back she continued on to a raised dias and Arwen motioned her to a chair placed nearer to Elrond's end of a long, well provisioned table.

Before she could get settled comfortably in her seat she heard Elrond call for a toast. Everyone arose to their feet almost in unison. Zan quickly shot to her feet as well though she had no drink with which to toast. There was a long, and to Zan, uncomfortable silence that passed during which an elf scurried to place a glass of clear brown liquid into her empty hand. Only once she looked toward Elrond did she realize he had been waiting on her. 

“To new friends and family. May health and good fortune be yours and may the sun forever shine upon the paths your feet needs tread.” Around her Zan heard the clinking of glasses followed by sipping and cheers. Tentatively she brought her glass to her lips and tasted the unfamiliar beverage and found with a smile that it was good. She drained her glass as those around her sat back down and once again she found she was rushing to catch up.

After placing her napkin in her lap. She looked across the table and was surprised to see Gimli eyeing her with a genuine smile. “Ahh, the melancholy lass I've oft seen from afar. Nice to finally meet you. I am Gimli son of Gloin. And you are?”

Zan smiled. “Alexzandra at your service.” She knew through her repeated readings of LOTR that was the proper greeting. Then, remembering something else, she added, “a star shines upon the hour of our meeting.

His smile broadened to include his eyes. “I had heard you were a stranger from a land so distant even the greats of Rivendell have not heard tale of it. How come thee to know this, our fair greeting?”

“I must have heard it somewhere and it seems to fit such an occasion as this.”

“ Indeed it does, Gimli replied. “Do not let our conversing keep you from eating.” Using his fork he indicated some type of meat, “This is particularly tasty tonight.”

Zan couldn't help but chuckle a bit remembering the salted pork scene from the Two Towers extended edition movie. “Then by all means, I must start with that,” she said to a serving elf than had stepped to her side. “I will start with whatever our distinguished Dwarf has on his plate. Of this place, I have much yet to learn, but I have heard that dwarves are connoisseurs of fine dining. Just a sampling though as I have yet to discover what I will like.” Zan addressed the elf yet found herself unable to look away from the jolly dwarf seated near her.

“Very good, my lady.” The Elf nodded courteously as he picked up her plate and began including exactly the foods he saw on Gimli’s plate except in much smaller quantities. 

“Indeed you are right,” Gimli agreed between mouthfuls of food. “A dwarf will never steer you wrong. We are a hearty race with a love of both food and drink. Now tell me about this land of yours.” Gimli encouraged.

“I’d much rather hear about your land.” Zan countered honestly.  
Gimli's eyes twinkled with joy. “Indeed! Then you shall.” Then Gimli began a long tale of Dwarvish happenings in the world, places Zan must come one day to visit, and tales of his dwarf ancestors. It lasted clear through both dinner and dessert. 

Zan was fascinated by the words that Gimli spoke and began to have a new appreciation for dwarves. She had always most admired the elves and thought she would feel at home with them, and indeed were it not for the circumstances that had brought her to this place, she knew she would feel awed and even ecstatic about being in Rivendell at the house of Elrond. Her growing friendship with Arwen had only strengthened that belief. Yet now she found that dwarves were (or at least Gimli was), both perspicacious and unpretentious. He was a skilled conversationalist and storyteller and he kept her mind more occupied than it had been since she’d arrived. At the end of the dinner Zan was surprised to realize she had actually smiled, laughed, talked a good deal more than she'd mean to and entirely enjoyed her evening. Gimli had not only talked to her but everyone at her end of the table and more than once she joined everyone else as they laughed at the dwarfs antics. In short Gimli was both funny and fun to be around. At one point she had intercepted a knowing look that had passed from Elrond to Gandalf and instinctively knew it was about her, yet even that didn't break the spell Gimli seem to have cast upon her, and indeed her whole end of the table.

When after dinner, the dwarf offered his arm she accepted it without hesitation. She felt as if she had found a life-long friend in the dwarf. He led her into a large hall that contained many seats and fireplaces yet no tables. It seemed a comfortable, relaxing place. Elvish minstrels began at once to sing and the guests hurried to find a seat, but before she could take one herself next to the dwarf she found Gandalf at her side and with him stood Frodo and Sam. She excused herself from the dwarf and remembering Gandalf’s earlier comment about seeing her tonight she nodded an acknowledgment to Gandalf. He led her toward an uninhabited corner of the room next to yet another roaring fireplace. 

“Lady Alexzandra, I would like you to meet a good friend of mine.” Gandalf said without preamble. “This is Frodo, son of Drogo and his gardener Samwise Gamgee. They are halflings. I think you have yet to meet a hobbit.”

“You are quite right.” She admitted and smiling offered her hand to the legendary hobbit she knew to be Frodo. She had meant it to be in offer of a handshake and was surprised when Frodo took her one hand in both of his and brought it to his lips for a kiss. 

She managed to hide her surprise but was so flustered she found herself dipping into the first curtsy of her life. “Charmed.” She replied then seeing the uncomprehending look on everyone's face she added, “That was greeting used in the olden days of my world. It means polite pleasure at an introduction.”

“Well said and well met,” Frodo said with an understanding nod. 

Instead of offering her hand to Sam as well, she gave him a smile and a head bob. The hobbit looked relieved and returned the gesture. Everyone sat. 

“Welcome to the Hall of Fire, milady. My first visit here was not so long ago. What do you think of it?” Frodo asked.

“Please, although Gandalf and Elrond persist in calling me Lady Alexzandra, I much prefer being called Zan.” When Frodo nodded she continued, “As for this place, it is enchanting, like something out of a fairytale.”

“Fairytale?” Frodo asked with an easy smile. “That is not a word with which I am familiar.” 

“Fairy tales are like stories from the olden days that are not entirely true.” Zan explained. Silently she reminded herself it would be wise to listen more and talk less.

Sam nodded. “ I dearly love those kind of tales, ancient stories of times long past and heroic deeds. Are you good at that? Could you tell me one of your fairytales?”

“ Perhaps at a later time.” Gandalf suggested and Zan nodded.

Minutes later though Zan was perplexed when she realized despite Gandalf’s request, he had made no attempt at directing the conversation and seemed content to leave her and the hobbits to chat about seemingly equally unimportant things as fairytales. 

The question of where she was from was asked yet again.

After a moment's thought she replied, “Some place that is as opposite to your world as is night and day. It is called America, but I don't want to speak of that place just yet.” Frodo and Sam nodded understandingly and Gandalf's only response was one quickly raised bushy eyebrow, but it disappeared so fast Zan couldn't be sure if she had really seen it or if it was a trick of the lighting given off by the flickering flames. 

The conversation lapsed into companionable silence as the minstrel ceased to play and a tall elf of regal stature and fair hair stood up and began the tale of Gil-galad. Zan sat up with renewed interest, but the tale-teller had not gotten more than two verses into the story when Arwen arrived and with a grave face told Zan that Aragorn and Legolas had returned and we're waiting to speak with her.

Zan could never remember afterwards if she had run straight out of the Hall of Fire or if she had, as courtesy demanded, excused herself from the group before departing.  
Arwen's face had told Zan the news was not good, yet she knew she would not be satisfied until she had questioned both, if even then. She assumed that meant they'd found no sign of Ana. So she was startled upon entering the room to see a shroud upon a stone table. The purpose of the room was immediately obvious. This is where they brought the dead to await burial.

With a gasp of pain, tears flooded her eyes and she blindly rushed toward the table not wanting to look yet knowing she had to see. But Aragorn and Legolas steadfastly blocked her path. 

“ Please!” she wailed.

Aragorn took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. “Of course milady, but I want to warn you there is not much left. Naught but torn garments and bones when we found her.” 

Nodding, she replied in a shaken, whispered voice. “I knew she was dead. I expected as much but still I must see her.” He released her and both elf and man stepped aside.

Heart hammering in her chest, she suddenly found it hard to breathe. With a quavering hand she folded back the shroud to see exactly what Aragorn had described yet worse than she imagined as the skeleton was not entirely intact and lay upon the cloth in many pieces some of which were not whole. 

“What did this?” She asked through clenched teeth.

“I believe it to be wargs though they are seldom seen so far afield of their territory.” Aragorn replied sharply as if he loathed to say the words.

Zan nodded and reaching down she gingerly touched the skull of her best friend. “I'm so sorry I failed you Ana,” she whispered in a voice made coarse with emotion. “ You deserved better than this!” Seeing Ana’s coat lying among the bones she gently removed it and pulled it to her chest. It was torn, filthy and stained with blood but she cared not in the least. She dropped the shroud back over the body, and stumbled to a chair in the corner and sobbed uncontrollably off and on for the rest of the night oblivious to everything and everyone around her. She wasn't even sure when everyone else had left the room but when morning came she found she was alone.

Zan rose to her feet swaying with both a sadness and a weariness she had not truly felt before. She hardened her heart against the despair she felt and decided to go in search of Elrond. She had a funeral to arrange. She knew she owed so much to Ana, things she would now never be able to repay, but she knew this was the least she could do for her friend. 

She hadn't taken more than two steps outside of the room when Arwen showed up. The fact that Arwen had been waiting nearby for her was not something she took for granted. She no longer had doubt. Arwen was a true friend. The truest she found since she first met Ana. Unable to voice her thanks, Zan did the next best thing, she reached out just for the briefest of seconds and clasp Arwen's arm as the elf made inquiries as to her health. 

“I'm fine.” She lied. “This was the outcome we were hoping for right? It is the chance to bury her. It is why Aragorn and Legolas went in the first place and were so diligent in their duty.” She shuddered thinking of Ana now as only a pile of bones. She wished she'd never looked under the shroud, yet she also knew that had never really been an option. She had gotten Ana killed. Now she would see it through to the end. She would see her friend buried. 

“True but that does not make it any less painful.”

Zan knew she couldn't explain her emotions, or rather, the lack there of to the elf so she didn't try. She was well and truly cried out and felt she was inside an emotional famine unable to feel anything until she did her duty to what was left of Ana. “I would like to see Elrond. I want to get her buried as soon as possible.”

“Of course.” The elf replied, “Follow me. I know just where he is this early in the morning.”


	6. Quietus

Ana’s burial was held later that same day. After consulting Elrond it was decided that her body be buried in Elvish fashion in a glen that Zan chose. It was well off the beaten path and she knew Ana would have been partial to it. It was small and secluded as glens tend to be and the entire dell was shaded by an enormous, venerable Corkscrew Willow tree and nearby a burbling brook playfully skirted a rocky outcropping before it tumbled down waterfall fashion into a low lying pool at the base of the willow. By the time everything was ready, the sun was already westering and hung so low in the sky that soon it would be night. 

The funeral was very low key at Zan’s request as she knew Ana would have wanted it. Arwen, Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf and Elrond were the only people to attend in addition to Zan. Just outside of the glen waited two elves with shovels. Zan refused to acknowledge their presence.

Arwen sang a lament in the elvish tongue which was so beautiful that it brought tears to Zan’s eyes; tears she thought had been cried out of her the previous night. Elrond spoke very briefly of Elvish burial customs but through her grief Zan managed to catch bits and pieces of what he said. Then gently Aragorn and Legolas placed Ana’s enshrouded body into the prepared hole in the ground over which gardeners would soon fashion a burial mound and plant upon it flowers that Zan chose, but that process would yet take many days to complete. Zan had chosen periwinkle as much for the color as the symbolism of the plant. That purple-blue color had been certainly been among Ana’s favorites but the plant itself symbolized the reminiscence of pleasant memories with a friend, and Zan fervently hoped one day she would be able to see past the guilt she felt for causing Ana’s death and remember all the good things about her best friend.

Then kneeling, Zan placed a cross she had fashioned out of two, thin, tortuous, corkscrew willow branches. As she placed it in the ground Zan spoke to her friend. It wasn't something she'd prepared in advance; it just came pouring out of her. Even then it was not something she said for the others to hear, though the smallness of the area and the sharpness of Elven ears probably ensured at least some of the glen’s occupants heard all that was spoken. It was a last whispered conversation or perhaps prayer to her dead friend who had for all intents and purposes been Zan’s only family for the last decade.

“ Ana, I am so sorry. You're dead because of me. You didn't deserve this! You were supposed to live. You were supposed to fall in love, get married, raise a family, keep me company in our old age. I took that from you. I stole your life and I can't do anything to change that and I hate myself for it; will always hate myself for that. I'm lost without you here to guide me. I hope one day you can forgive me but I know I'll never be able to forgive myself.”

 

After a heavy silence she scooped a handful of dirt in her right hand. Then holding it over the body she let it fall from her hand. In voice that started out soft and weak but ended loud and clear she spoke the last words aloud that she would ever say to her friend: “Always, you will be loved and never, will you be forgotten.” Turning away from the grave, Zan faced the people who had chosen to attend the funeral of a stranger. They had done that for her! It was a kind gesture that Zan knew she didn't deserve. Arwen wrapped her in a hug and quite without meaning to Zan cried into her shoulder for several minutes before she was able to pull herself together. Behind her she heard the sound of shovels and knew that Ana was being buried by the two unacknowledged elves, but she could not bare to turn back and watch. Instead she took the proffered arm without really being fully aware that it was Aragorn who had offered it. 

They walked half of the distance back toward the house when Aragorn cleared his throat and offered his sympathy. “It is obvious that you loved your friend. Her death has hit you hard. I am sorry to have been the bearer of such a terrible fate.”

“You weren't. I knew she was dead already. As much as I wished it was a bad dream I knew it was not. I have known that for weeks.”

“This was found near your friend. Does it belong to her?” Aragorn produced a silver chain with a glass pendant that was blown into a perfect sphere. It was a deep midnight blue with sparkling white specks that looked like some gifted jeweler had magically reached up and trapped the starry night sky into a glass container Alexzandra gasped as she shakily reached out for it. She knew that pendant; it had been Ana’s. She had given it to Ana for her 15th birthday. She remembered that day as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

“Contendo cumpleaños, chica.” Zan said as she barged into Ana’s room without knocking.

Ana was sitting at her desk doing English homework, the very homework Zan had given up doing hours ago. Spinning her chair around to face Zan she was momentarily caught off guard by her friend tossing her a sloppily wrapped box and just barely caught it before it crashed into her neatly arranged desk.  
“Zan! That is wrong on so many different levels I can't even begin to explain it. If you are going to be my sista, at least learn the lingo.”

“Sorry! Hey, I tried. I took the time to ask someone who takes Spanish how to say happy.”

“Well, that's the wrong word. Obviously you didn't try too hard, a quick google search coulda easily told you the right way to say happy birthday.” Ana Medeiros exclaimed and her tone was dead serious, but Zan knew her friend was really just giving her a hard time. There was a twinkle in her friend’s eyes and Ana seemed to be having difficulty keeping the corners of her lips down; two clear signs Ana was just kidding around. When Zan didn't take the bait, Ana gave it up and let her smile grace her face. Then she focued on the gift, turning it over in her hands, examining it from every angle. Ana loved surprises and could drag out opening her present longer than anyone Zan knew. “You wrapped this didn't you? I told you to give it up. You are hereby officially banned from all future wrapping endeavors.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. I suck at wrapping but it was either that or hand it to you in a plastic bag which is just plain boring.”

“True. In that case I accept your wrapped gift it is…is…” Ana struggled to find an appropriate adjective but finally landed on “unique.”

Just go on and open the present up already.”

Ana however was not ready to comply. Shaking the present produced a scraping sound and Zan chided herself for not over packing the box. Ana smile grew even bigger. “That sounds like maybe a chain. “Is it jewelry? You know how I love jewelry!” She squealed with delight.

Realizing Ana would not be rushed Zan gave in and flopped onto Ana’s pristinely made bed. That was the thing about Ana, she was neat, organized, an excellent student, always dressed to the 9’s, loved girly things like jewelry and wanted all of the latest fashion accessories; in short she was everything Zan was not. Zan was about as disorganized as a person could be, a mediocre student and would rather have a trusty weapon such as a knife, brass knuckles, or a nightstick than jewelry any day of the week. Zan’s normal attire consisted of jeans, a carefully selected graphic tee advertising her favorite movie, book or band or just some sassy slogan that appealed to her, and her trusty Swat boots she’d picked up at the Army Navy store. Ana and Zan were complete opposites yet their friendship worked. 

Ana didn't want or wait for an answer. Cocking her head to the side, much like a beloved dog does when spoken to, she peered at Zan and returned to the previous conversation. “Chica, embrace who you are! You can't excel at everything. No one can.”

 

“So you keep reminding me but I have yet to find one thing you can't do well.”

Ana sat on the bed beside her best friend. "Not true! I suck at grammar. I swear if I have to sit through one more class period diagramming sentences, I'm gonna die of boredom, like literally. We've been doing this for a solid week. It's time for Mrs. Stephens to move on already!” 

"Ana, I'm pretty sure boredom is one thing you can't actually die from, not literally anyway. Besides, at least you sort of understand what we are doing. I'm the one who keeps getting D's and F's on it. I suck at everything!" 

“Yeah, but a C hurts when you're used to getting A’s.” Ana said laughing. After an obviously dramatic pause Ana added, “Come to think of it you do suck at a lot of stuff!” Ducking from Zan’s half-hearted mock punch she added, “Hey you said it. I was just agreeing with you.” 

“How about you just open the present already!” Zan begged sitting up next to her friend so that she could see Ana’s reaction better. 

Ana nodded and finally tore into the disheveled wrapping. She made short work of disposing of the paper to reveal a box. Upon opening the box, Ana squealed in delight, “Zan, it beautiful. It looks like the night sky.”

“I know. I thought the same thing when I saw it. My grandmom was Native American and she always told me that all paths cross for a reason; in a galaxy of strangers certain people are just destined to meet. When I saw this pendant, I was reminded of that. When I look at this necklace it helps me believe we were destined to meet and become friends.” 

“Don't you go getting schmaltzy on me Zan Evers!” Ana chided as she pulled Zan in for a quick thank you hug. When she pulled back though, Zan could see the tears piling up behind her friend's eyelids. “Thanks. I love it!” 

 

Seeing Ana’s necklace in her hand right after burying her friend was overwhelming and she felt her throat closing up. Oh how she missed her best friend! Her breathing quickened and tears flooded her eyes like a river threatening to flood its banks after a hard rain. Wiping stubbornly at her leaky eyes and shaking her head Zan did her best to pull herself together.

Aragorn cleared his throat and Zan thought maybe he was doing it to regain her attention. Wiping her eyes a second time she looked at him as he placed the necklace into her upturned hand. As he did so it became obvious that the chain was broken. “The Elven smithies will have no problem fixing the chain for you. Ask for Brachion, he is truly skilled at doing fine detailed work such as this.”

“Thank you!” She hadn't meant to sound so weak but her voice came out just above a whisper. “I owe you more than I can ever repay. You brought her back, and gave me the chance to bury her in peace and now you give me her necklace! I will always be thankful for those things especially considering, how you put off your important business to go look for her.”

Aragorn stiffened almost imperceptibly at her comment but said nothing. Still in her head Zan heard his question as loudly as if he had spoken it. What do you know of my business?

Zan sighed. She had not meant for the conversation to take this turn, but she supposed now it was inevitable. Weeks had passed since she had arrived, weeks that were just barely a fog of memory because she had been so consumed with sadness and depression; so worried they would find no trace of her best friend. She owed a debt to this man and the Elven prince; a debt she would never be able to pay. But perhaps there was something she could do for Aragorn. She couldn't tell him everything but perhaps she could at the very least give him hope.

“Aragorn I know you do not trust me and perhaps you never will. These are dark times and caution is a shield welded by those wise enough to see its necessity. Just now, you didn't voice it but I know were it not this solemn occasion and were you not a gentlemen it is likely you’d have asked what exactly I know and how I have come by this knowledge. I wish I could answer that but I can't! So instead I hope this will reassure you. I am not in anyway trying to insinuate my way into what you and Frodo must do. Gandalf has hinted I should go with you on this quest, but that is not my intent. If I go anywhere it will be to see the Lady of the Golden Wood as Elrond has suggested. I know the ring is altogether evil and must be destroyed. I want nothing to do with it. There has been too much evil in my life to be tempted by the ring’s false power. It must be destroyed and I deem the sooner the better! Nor do I want you to distrust me, future king of Gondor. I have the greatest respect for you and what you must do. I am not the enemy and have no designs to be involved in matters that don't concern me.”

“Frodo? Quest? Ring?! King of Gondor! You speak as though you know the outcome of a meeting that has not yet even concluded because of your very arrival. You know what the future holds, yet you are no elf with the gift of foresight, nor are you a wizard. You want us to believe you are just a human from a distant land, yet, you speak of things with an uncanny confidence. How, I wonder, do you think we should view you and your arrival? How would you behave if the situation was reversed?” 

Aragorn had ceased to walk and though his voice remained calm his body was taut with concern. For almost a solid minute she left his question unanswered. Instead standing shoulder to shoulder she turned and stared at him direct and unwavering. She was hoping beyond hope that he would see the honesty behind her eyes. She did not want to be the first to look away. This conversation was too important to leave to interpretation and innuendo but as the others caught up to her and the ranger and fanned out around him she became distracted and looked away toward the others. Then releasing his arm, Zan stepped away from Aragorn and turned to address them all. 

 

“I do know things and have known them for most of my life. I cannot tell any of you how, and if I did you wouldn't believe me anyway. But please I want you all to know, I never meant to come to Rivendell nor did I intend to meet any of you. How you all take this conversation and indeed even me is entirely up to each of you. I just need to be honest with all of you, but most especially Legolas and Aragorn. I owe you two at least that much for bringing Ana back to be buried.”

After a brief pause during which she looked at each person in turn, she spoke again.  
“I know you all to be people of honor and courage who stand valiantly for all that is good and right in Middle Earth. I value that about each of you, but I do not wish to be involved in the events with which you are all caught. I do not desire to be involved in the destruction of the One ring. Nor do I wish to go back to the land I came from. I want nothing more than to be left alone, to forget my past, and to start a new life for myself somewhere in middle earth. So I appeal to the kindness and compassion I know resides in each of you to just let me be. This though I feel safe telling you: this quest, which seems impossible on the face of things, is the only chance this world has. If you stick to the bonds of fellowship you will pledge here in Rivendell then go forward knowing if anything has even the smallest chance of success it is this quest and this quest alone. There will be loss of life, hardship and much suffering before all is said and done and I can't promise any outcome; my very life has taught me the impermanence of sure things…”. Seeing the astonished looks on everyone's faces she grew pensive and dropped off into silence. Had she said too much? 

Then she realized not everyone looked shocked at her impromptu speech. Gandalf alone looked as though he had known this moment would come, had been waiting for it, was expecting it.

“You knew I would say this, didn't you. You knew what was going to happen all along.” Zan queried in a soft voice.

“Yes, I did, but I hoped to persuade you otherwise. I see the gifts you have to offer the fellowship.” The wizard spoke earnestly. “I think you could be valuable to the success of this quest.”

“You cannot ask me to do this! Please, just let me be. You do not know what you are asking. I will not change my mind...for the good of all, I can't.” 

Zan was tired, so tired. All she wanted to do was collapse on the spot, Instead She turned and fled in the direction of the house. She heard several people call her name or bid her to stop, but she ignored them all. 

Gandalf, dear Gandalf, did not know what he was asking! He did not understand that anyone she ever cared about ended up dead- sooner or later they all died- her parents, her grandmother, and now Ana. If she got involved with the quest she would doom it to failure!!! 

When she reached the main house, she headed in the direction of the stables, and the equine comfort of Faerdhine. Dusk was falling but she needed time alone with her thoughts, to escape from anyone who might wish to talk and knew of no better place than the barn.

 

***

“Alas,” Gandalf proclaimed once she was out of sight, “it seems she has long since made her choice. I do not agree with it, but I think it best to do as she asks and leave her be. None can see the path laid before their feet save those with the gift of foresight, and even then it is a perilous venture. Mayhap her part is not what I deemed it to be.”

“I know you had hoped to persuade her otherwise but perhaps this is for the best” Elrond responded. 

“Perhaps.” Gandalf conceded.

“How does she know so much about me?” Aragorn asked with concern. “Considering the care we have taken, I had thought my identity was a better guarded secret, yet she outright called me the future king of Gondor and that is not known by any but the few that stand here with me now.”

“My dear Aragorn it is not only you whom she knows. She clearly has information on us all.” Gandalf said. “Though I cannot even begin to ascertain how she came by this knowledge. Rest assured, she is no threat. Rather, I think she chose now to tell you what she knew out of respect and perhaps even gratitude for your diligence this past month.” 

“Pray, tell us now how you found the body?” Arwen asked of Legolas. 

“There is naught to tell.” Legolas replied. “Just when we despaired that we should ever find it, we came across Warg prints which Aragorn followed to the remains. It was obvious the body had been dragged from elsewhere as Wargs are likely to do but we found no clue as to where the body or Zan had come from. It was as if they had appeared out of thin air if things such as that ever happened.

“Well that is quite a puzzle,” said Gandalf. “ If Aragorn can't follow her tracks then there are none who can, thus I think it unlikely that we shall discover more of the human’s mystery. At least not unless she decides to speak more on this matter. For now it matters not how she came to us. She is here and it's doesn't seem as though she is concerned with returning to her home any time soon, if ever or helping on this quest.”

“I believe you to be right in this matter, but alas who can say with certainty. The whims of the common men are less understood than even that of the Dunedin as we are even further asundered from them.” Elrond proclaimed. “Let us return for our evening meal and call it a night. We should get an early start if we are indeed to proceed with the council on the morrow.”

****

When Zan retreated into the darkened barn she had incorrectly assumed it would be vacant as night was well at hand, so she was startled to see a tall, shadowy figure emerge from the tack room and move to saddle a horse. A squeak of surprise escaped her lips before she could stop it. 

“Pardon, my lady. It was not my intention to startle you!” A deep melodic voice addressed her through the shadowy darkness. “Have you perchance come for a night ride as well?”

“I don't think that would be wise. I had my first lesson yesterday.”

“Ah, you must be the mysterious Ms. Evers. I wish to express my condolences regarding your friend.”

“Does everyone in Rivendell know my business?” Zan asked sounding slightly more perturbed than she’d meant. She still could not see to whom she was speaking but she knew that the voice was Elvish. 

“Indeed no.” The stranger chuckled. “My brother and I returned from a scouting trip mid morning and had much to tell our father and unintentionally interrupted a conversation between him and our sister regarding burial arrangements.” He walked back to the tack room and produced a lantern which he promptly ignited and the barn was flooded with a soft glow. Finally with the light Zan could see the tall, lean, dark haired elf with a handsomely chiseled face. He was smiling at her, and not a fake smile either. It was a genuine smile that was kindled in his eyes. 

After a quick glance Zan looked back to her horse. “Then you are one of the twins? I have heard tell of you but I can't recall your names.” She chided herself for the lie. Arwen’s brothers were Elladon and Elrohir. She could have just as easily remained silent then at least she wouldn't have had the sense of guilt she was now plagued with. She sighed heavily. She wished the day were done but knew there was no point in trying to sleep. Between the burial, her scene with Gandalf, Aragorn, and the rest of the funeral attendees and now guilt for an unnecessary lie, she knew her mind was too restless for sleep. At least the twins were a distraction, something safe she could allow herself to think. Every true LOTR fan knew of Elladan and Elrohir and she was no exception. In fact she had always wandered why they did not play a larger part in the story given that they were good friends of Aragorn and rode often with the Dunedain. Then again she had wished Arwen had played a larger part in Tolkien's tale as well. But not much was known of the twins so before her stood an actual stranger. That was in and of itself slightly comforting. Her musings were promptly interrupted by a the cheerful elf as he moved closer to where she stood stroking Faerdhine's neck. 

“Elrohir is my name and I bid you ride now with me. Faerdhine is an exceptional horse that knows well these lands even in the dark. And I am an excellent horseman as my name suggests. Between my expertise and your horse you will be safe. There is nothing quite like your first night ride; I remember mine as though it were yesterday and I was but a child. Please do me the honor of allowing me to be your guide.”

Without even a moment's hesitation, Zan agreed though she didn't herself know exactly why. Her only thought before nodding yes was what could it hurt? He was after all just a minor character.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not claim to be an expert, or even a novice, in either Sindarin or Spanish. In fact this is the first time I've ever had a need to write Sindarin, and it's been over twenty years since I last sat in a Spanish class. Thank goodness for the Google docs translation feature which I used for the Spanish phrasing! The link for Sindarin you will find below. If anyone reading this, is indeed, an expert on either language, please feel free to leave me a note in the comment section.
> 
>  
> 
> *Elvish Translations per http://www.realelvish.net/101_sindarin.html  
> 


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